A Merry Christmas, A Happy New Year
by PastaWar19
Summary: All over the world, the countries experience Christmas and New Year. One-shot collection of multiple pairings. Ch1: USxUK, Ch2: GerIta, Ch3: Franada.
1. Chapter 1

Hetalia: Axis Powers

A Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year

**DISCLAIMER: **Sadly, I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia because if I did, I wouldn't be writing this. I wish I did own APH, though. Hidekaz Himaruya gets all the credit. And obviously, I did not invent Christmas, either. Only the plot belongs to me. :D

**OPENING NOTES: **Hello, everyone! :) I was supposed to post this on the 1st of December but then our exams just had to come right before the holidays so there was a short delay. This is a collection of drabble fics and one-shots of different pairings all about Christmas and New Year so expect this to be completed around the end of January. For now, I present to you a little USxUK fluff. :D

* * *

Chapter One

It was a cold, snowy day. Many people would welcome this weather with open arms and shout with joy at seeing the white mass of icy cold splatter at their windows. The trees outside were covered with blankets of snow and the lake was glassy; it had transformed from water to ice.

A large house sat innocently in the middle of this winter wonderland and frankly, I don't think winter was ever a wonder at all- at least, to Arthur Kirkland, who had experienced this weather several times for more than hundreds of years.

Arthur stood by the window, holding a cup of warm, bittersweet tea with a pinky finger sticking up. He gazed wearily at the trees, the snow, the lake, and the bright whiteness of it all and the sigh that had just issued from his mouth fogged the window.

Inside the house, in the room Arthur was idly lazing around, there was a small fire that helped spread warmth in the cold atmosphere. It was not enough for Arthur, who wasn't one to tolerate cold for long. Tea was always his cure when cold weather would come to him, which meant that he drank it everyday- if not, every other day- since England was a very rainy place.

While his emerald green eyes scanned the landscape outside, Arthur had been absentmindedly drinking tea from his cup for the past few minutes and was slightly surprised to find that he had finished it so quickly. Brushing away a few strands of blonde hair from his face, he went to the table and poured more tea into the cup. He added sugar and mixed it with a teaspoon, lifting the cup to his lips afterwards.

His lips touched the brim of the cup and, making him so palpably content, warmth spread all over his body, washing away the biting cold that had first penetrated him when he woke up in the morning.

This little moment of peace and contentment lasted only for a few split seconds as a loud resounding bang was heard from the door.

Arthur jumped, startled, and dropped his tea, which spilled on his pants. His usually clean attire was ruined by a huge stain and he cursed the person who was standing behind his door. Heaven knows what the bloody hell that unknown git is doing there, Arthur thought angrily. He fervently wiped the stain on his pants and gave up as it showed no signs of clearing away. The broken pieces of the cup were carefully cleared away, and England went to the door quickly.

Arthur Kirkland only knew very few people who would dare interrupt his moments of peace. One was Francis Bonnefoy, the dreaded wavy blonde Frenchman who would always smile and laugh at England's discontent. The perverted yet elegant, carelessly handsome man, who always looked like he had just walked out of a fashion magazine, took joy at irritating the Englishman and that was how it was ever since the two nations met. If one would ask the two how they referred to each other, they would both say something similar to 'best enemies'.

England also knew that the impudent, loud man now banging endlessly at his door could also be Alfred F. Jones. This man was far different from Francis yet he was also a blonde. His loud voice accented his appearance, which was usually a mess. Always holding a burger, a soda, a gun, or anything else that completely describes _American _or _superhero, _Alfred loved annoying his former father figure and that was how it was ever since he left Arthur in the Revolutionary War. Now, it is impossible for them to be in the same room without even a single insult.

"ENGLAAAANDDD!!!"

Now this, Arthur thought dryly, is a dead giveaway. Only Alfred would have the nerve to shout at me through the door like that. Francis usually uses Angleterre.

England shook his head and opened the door roughly. There stood Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as America, with messy blonde hair and glasses askew due to his disability to stay still for long. He wore his usual jacket with the white 50 on the back and was holding a huge burger.

"America. What brings you here?" England asked, his emerald green eyes narrowing at the beaming America standing before him. "Aren't you supposed to be in America?"

The younger of the two laughed and said cheerfully, "I just wanted to greet you a Merry Christmas!!"

"The World Christmas Party was yesterday, Alfred."

"I know but that doesn't mean I can't go here and celebrate Christmas alone with _you, _England," America replied sweetly in a voice sugared with honey.

England shuddered and mumbled, "Don't you dare tell me you want to celebrate Christmas alone with me in _that _tone of voice; you bloody sound like France."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me- well, France told me to greet you for him. So yeah, he says, 'Merry Christmas, Angleterre'. Unfortunately, he had some problems back at his place and couldn't come."

"Oh joy."

Alfred stared at his former father figure and saw how bored he looked. His blonde hair was messier than his, which was actually saying something, and his usually shining emerald green eyes were dull with weariness.

Arthur noticed the younger man staring at him and cleared his throat. Alfred looked away, blushing slightly. "Don't just stand out there in the cold. I'm surprised you haven't jumped inside yelling yet. Come i-"

The door was flung aside and America ran to the living room, where England had been drinking his morning tea.

"Wow, your Christmas tree is quite big," America commented, looking at the tall tree that was a few inches above his head, "Mine reaches the roof!"

England turned and eyed the small pile of snow that America brushed off himself hastily, and then looked at him. "The ceiling, Alfred, not the roof. The ceiling is the one inside the house and the roof is the one outside the house. I kept on telling you that when you were younger and look where getting used to wrong words gets you."

"Whatever, England," America replied, rolling his eyes. The sky blue eyes scanned for more to see in the house and landed on England. He still looks pretty bored, he thought, I'll take care of that.

"What are you looking at, America?" England asked, noticing his staring.

"Did you just pee your pants?"

England glared at the younger nation, who was now laughing. He sighed, looking down at the pants. They do indeed look as if I had peed on them, he thought wearily.

"ARTHUR PEED HIS PANTS!!" America yelled, running off down the hall. England sighed, shaking his head, and got another cup of tea. He looked outside and saw the snow splattering against his window and the temperature falling once again.

"Wow, England, I didn't know you still had this thing!"

He rolled his eyes, wondering what America had found. He followed his voice and entered a spare room. There were old albums and trunks of different old things stacked up in boxes at the corners of the room. The well-organized yet dusty shelf near the door was the room's focal point and there England found America holding a small, dusty mug. His grip on his cup of tea tightened for a bit and the color rose ever so slightly to his cheeks.

It was red with a blue handle and it had a colorful hand-painted picture of a boy and a man. There was a small scribble of messy handwriting at the bottom and if one could decipher the childish penmanship, it read, 'England, my big brother'. Another scribble was seen on the top near the handle and it read, 'Merry Christmas!!' The mug was made on a Christmas many centuries ago and it had been long forgotten until the very day being encountered right now.

"You actually kept it?" America asked softly, grinning as he threw it to England, who caught it deftly.

"I kept it because you seemed to think it meant so much to me, when it actually did…" England replied tonelessly, "You used to love inventing different things that would pop out of your imagination randomly. Some of them are now quite successful and others were just plain cute."

He laughed bitterly and shook his head, taking a sip from the formerly forgotten cup of tea in his other hand. He set down the mug on the box nearest him and walked out of the room. America followed and asked quietly, "Do you think I've been doing quite well as a nation right now?"

"You must have gotten bored of teasing me and decided to ask questions now, hm?" England inquired, smirking. He drank his last gulp from the cup and set it down on the table. He then sat down on the couch by the fireplace, shivering slightly as the cold, Christmas morning had its effect on him once again.

America sat down beside him, finishing the last remains of his burger. "Well, America, I would have to say that you're doing quite well. Yes, there's still the recession and discrimination and crime and all that whatnot going around but then I would have to admit that you are doing just fine," England stated slowly, watching America's reaction to his honest statement.

He was about to inquire why he even asked in the first place when America answered his question. "So that's good… I-if you think I'm doing fine, then does that mean you're…"

"I'm what?"

"You're proud of me?"

There was an impregnable silence as England froze and America blushed. England looked at the snowy landscape outside the window for the millionth time that morning and avoided America's curious eyes as he tried to find the perfect answer. America took a deep breath, thinking why the hell he'd be nervous while asking someone if they're proud of him.

England noticed that his companion was about to say something and was silent, waiting for him to either elaborate or just shrug it off. Instead, he felt America put down his usual jacket snugly on him and realized that the younger nation probably knew he was feeling cold. He removed his gaze outside the window and looked at America. "I- thank you. I needed that. The fire's getting smaller and my tea's running out…"

"And I would also have to say that yes, maybe I am proud of you."

It was America's turn to freeze as his hand, which was poised on England's shoulder, tensed. "Even if I wasn't your little brother for so long, even if I wasn't in your care or under your name at the times of my past few accomplishments, even if I left you out in the rain that day, you're still proud of me? You still kept that mug for the very same reason? Because you were proud to have ever raised me even if I hurt you that much?"

England raised a bushy eyebrow and said rather bluntly, "Wait- that's what this is about?"

"Well, I just want to say I'm sorry and thanks for everything because it's Christmas and I figured you were lonely but for a really long time, I've never known…" America answered quietly, his blue eyes lowered down onto his feet.

"You stupid, bloody git, even if I hate you until the ends of the earth, even if I feel like cursing you with all the possible magic in this world, you were, is, and always will be my little brother. And if I hate you so much and don't think highly of you at all, then all of it would have been for nothing. You should know that, Alfred," England said sincerely, his newly-refilled cup of tea forgotten on the side table beside him.

Suddenly, America grabbed the shoulder where his hand absentmindedly lay, and hugged England. "Aww, I love you too, Iggy!"

England felt his face redden and spluttered, "I- you- wait- let go of me! I did not say- AMERICA!"

The younger nation let go, laughing loudly. "Just enjoy the moment, England. When was the last time we had a quiet Christmas together?"

America grinned as England thought hard whether they even had such a time recently and chuckled as realization dawned on his face. "Yup, never. Well, maybe back then when we were far younger but nope, never in the past century." America said, laughing.

"Whatever, Alfred. Anyway, merry Christmas," England said, rolling his eyes. He couldn't help but smile widely as he threw a red box over to America, who caught it, surprised. "There's your gift, you git."

America opened it and laughed as he found it to be a notebook, the cover printed with burgers, sodas, guns, and aliens. The design was pretty childish yet the inside of the notebook and the pen that came with it looked very formal. America noted that England had probably bought it from an expensive store and replaced the original, most probably black cover, with the colorful one that he had so liked that very moment.

Obviously, America gave England a gift too, which was one of the primary reasons why he had come to the cold nation in the first place. There was a new, thick, and dark green raincoat that looked perfect for England, especially since he would be able to use it in his place most of the time. The color brought out his eyes, which was one of the reasons why America thought it looked nice on him.

The two laughed and talked, spending time with each other to the fullest. There was never a statement where England would smack the other nation irritably and there was never an action where America would respond to the other man cheerfully.

It was no longer cold and no longer morning; dark had replaced the light and night had come. America did not regret visiting England for a single bit and when he realized he could not contain it any longer, he kissed him full in the lips.

For a split second, England could not move. He stared at America and thought about what he had just done. Realizing that he actually enjoyed it, he leaned in and repeated the gesture, this time longer and more passionate. America laughed at England's red face and stood up, looking out at the dark sky.

"I have to go, Arthur."

"Well, goodbye then, Alfred."

After a while, the younger nation left and England was left alone at his house once again. This time, there was a light feeling in his stomach and he would grin at the thought of the American.

* * *

When Alfred had reached home, he instantly went to his room and opened the new notebook. He flipped it quickly to the first page and was about to draw an alien when he changed his mind. The pen was poised right above the page and then was brought down to write.

_Alfred F. Jones aka the one and only VERY awesome USA's journal._

America flipped to the next page and wrote again.

_Dec 26 '09_

_It feels weird writing on a journal when I haven't done so since I was what? Ten? Nine? Well yeah I secretly draw aliens and burgers when I'm bored but I haven't done this stuff before. I'm just bored. _

_Anyway, I just had a fun Christmas with Iggy. He peed on his pants and I found the old mug I gave him long ago…_

_

* * *

_

_**Author's Notes: **_Okay, well, USxUK came first since it's one of my most favorite pairings. I have others like GermanyxItaly, FrancexCanada, RussiaxChina, GreecexJapan, and many, many others to last until the end of January. You people could review and request which pairing you want to be featured for the next one-shot since I have many ideas already. Read, review, favorite, subscribe, and simply enjoy! Please and thank you!

_-Pasta W 19. _


	2. Chapter 2

Hetalia: Axis Powers

A Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year

**DISCLAIMER: **Axis Powers Hetalia is not mine. If it was, then there would be a whole crapload of featured pairings. XD

**OPENING NOTES: **Hello, everyone! I was supposed to post this two days ago but then I wasn't able to due to some emergency life situations and technical difficulties. Yeah, it sounds stupid but believe me, you wouldn't want to know... Anyway, enough of small talk. I hereby bring you- Chapter Two featuring some GermanyxItaly!!! There's also a small, tiny hint of FrUKUS if your eyes are sharp enough. :D

* * *

Chapter Two

It was a beautiful Christmas night. Lights that came in colors of red, green, white, yellow, and practically every other color could be seen everywhere. Children were dancing, singing, playing, eating, and laughing all over the town and saying that the whole place was engulfed in the spirit of Christmas would be such an understatement. Everyone and everything was simply alive with joy and happiness.

From afar, right on the rooftop of the building where the World Christmas Party had just ended, silence was covering the noise below since the building was quite high in altitude. Only the slight snow falling softly on the ground was interrupting the silence and the scene was perfect. Lights illuminated the lively city of New York, and the dark, night sky contrasted deeply with it all. Christmas here (well, at least at the top of the building, after the chaotic party) was peaceful, quiet, elegant, spirit-lifting, and-

"Germany! Germany!"

No, not that voice again. That voice always interfered with Germany's peaceful moments- in fact, that voice would always interrupt almost every single quiet day of Ludwig Weillschmidt's life.

Yes, Feliciano Vargas, to put it in simpler terms, enjoyed spending time with Ludwig; ever since their very first meeting, he had always been attracted to that blonde, blue-eyed, macho German nation.

"Germany, I'm here to give you a gif-"

"Italy, can't you see I'm busy?"

Italy stared at Germany and blinked, saying, "You're busy looking at the city? Isn't that boring for someone adventurous and tough like you, Germany?"

"Eh? Boring? Adventurous and tough? What the hell are you talking about?" Germany retorted.

The shorter, brown-haired Italian nation laughed and said, "Never mind! I brought you a gift and pasta!!"

Germany sighed and turned around, forcing on a face that looked excited and not annoyed, which turned out looking like he had a stomach ache. Italy ignored it and held out a plate of pasta on his left hand and a nicely-wrapped gift on his right. The other man grabbed the gift and opened it instantly just to get it over with, revealing a beautiful painting of himself.

Italy set down the plate of pasta on the table behind him and asked innocently, "Do you like it, Germany?"

Germany was speechless. In the painting, he was wearing his casual black shirt and jeans, covered with a green military-style jacket. He was leaning on a wall with a slight smile on his face, his blonde hair slicked back and icy blue eyes looking as if they were shining despite being on a painting. Every intricate detail and soft stroke was done neatly, perfectly, and carefully and looked as if Italy really did take pains to do it.

"I-Italy… This is brilliant, excellent, and really nice. I… I like it," Germany managed to say softly, his eyes still gazing at himself on the painting, "You really must have used up a lot of time and- and- just… Thank you…"

"Ve~ you like it!!" Italy cried cheerfully, "I made it just for you!"

Germany smiled and was about to say something in reply when a huge crash was heard from a few floors below. Italy gave a curious glance to the floor and Germany said, "It's probably America, England, and France fighting or Russia tormenting Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia or…"

And he trailed off, watching as Italy grabbed a fork and started scooping up pasta. "Germany, did you know that people are hungry when they talk a lot?"

He spoon-fed a very surprised Germany a forkful of pasta, which actually tasted quite delicious. "I-Italy! Don't do that!"

"But you were hungry, weren't you?" Italy asked innocently, eating more of the pasta.

"Well, yes, I wasn't able to eat much with all the chaos and noise going on in the party but I wasn't exactly that hungr-"

Italy forced another forkful of pasta in Germany's mouth, vaguely saying cheerfully, "Talking too much means you're just hungry! I bet you really like my pasta, don't you?"

Germany chewed while scowling at the same time, looking at Italy with a blank and slightly annoyed look on his face. Italy tilted his head to the side and said, "Does that frown mean that you don't like it? Aww… I made it especially for you, Germany!!"

"N-no! I wasn't frowning; I was j-just…" Germany exclaimed, slightly alarmed. He hated making the Italian depressed; seeing the shorter man with a frown on his face wasn't a sight you could easily get used to. Germany sighed and smiled, patting Italy on the head and saying, "I love the pasta. It's just that- I wanted to stay alone up here in silence, away from all the noise. It would be good if you finished that by yourself. Thank you for the pasta and the beautiful painting, Italy, but then I think you should go…"

Italy frowned slightly but then cheered up. "I'll behave and be quiet for you, Germany! Just don't stay up here alone; it's lonely. I'll keep you company and stay by your side. Besides, Christmas is about spending time with friends and-"

Suddenly, a forkful of pasta was shoved up Italy's mouth and Germany said, laughing, "You're talking too much, Italy; you must be hungry."

"Ve~ Germany! That's not fair!!" Italy cried, laughing as well, "But then I really am hungry…"

The plate of pasta was finished and the two were leaning on the ledge of the rooftop balcony, watching as the lights of New York flickered and danced under the moonlight. More snow started falling and it started getting colder, the temperature falling slowly.

"You're cold, aren't you, Italy?" Germany asked quietly.

Italy, who was actually shivering, shook his head. A few moments later, he said, "Germany, I'm cold…"

Germany stared at the Italian and involuntarily hugged him, as if pushed by an invisible force. He found it quite comfortable yet a little awkward hugging him and Italy found himself enjoying the hug, which warmed him comfortably. Italy smiled and cried joyfully, "Ve~ that's much better, Germany!!"

Silence erupted between them yet it was a calm silence, not an awkward one. They both enjoyed being together and the beautiful Christmas night matched it all perfectly. Italy leaned forward to get a closer view of the people below and Germany, slightly alarmed, said, "Be careful, Italy. You're clumsy and you might fall!"

"No, I won't!"

Germany hesitated for a split nanosecond and then let Italy go sit on the ledge, facing the city. He had the sudden urge to sit with him but held himself back; in case Italy would fall, he could catch him more conveniently than on the ledge, where he himself might fall as well.

Italy started pointing to lively places that seemed quite amusing to him. Germany would just nod yet he was thinking about the problems in his own country.

"Germany, look at the- ah!"

He knew sooner or later that Italy, being clumsy and hyper, might actually fall, and caught him swiftly around his body.

Instead of a whimper, Germany was amused to find that the Italian nation was laughing at how clumsy and fun that was. "That was fun, Germany! Rescue me again!"

"Italy…" He would grumble softly, but he was actually quite amused at the Italian's carefree nature.

Soon after, Italy found that he wanted to talk to Germany instead of look at the city and sat, once again, on the ledge, this time facing him.

"If you fall again, I swear I'm going to force you down on a chair…" Germany mumbled after trying to get Italy down.

"But Germany, chairs are boring! You could feel the breeze when you're sitting on the ledge or standing. You can't move much in chairs…" Italy answered.

Germany gazed at him and wondered how childlike and innocent Italy was, almost as if he never grew up. Pasta, pizza, gelato, tomatoes, white flags, and Germany were a few of the many things Italy never got tired of and no matter how hard anyone would try (even Germany wished on a falling star once that Italy would stop being so annoying and addicted to Italian food), Italy would always be Italy.

The night wore on longer and they both stayed in that position, Germany standing in front of Italy, who was sitting cheerfully on the ledge facing him.

"Germany…"

"Ja?"

"Ve~ it's really fun being with you… I never get bored!"

Italy smiled down at Germany, who was gazing up at him with an unreadable look on his face. They both found themselves drawing nearer to each other and then were suddenly looking straight into each other's eyes.

Germany pushed slightly upwards while Italy lightly leaned down and their lips met for a few seconds, forming a small kiss. When they pulled apart, Italy smiled and said, "That was nice!"

"Well, Italy… I- I think I quite, um, enjoyed it too…" Germany mumbled softly, blushing but smiling at the Italian nevertheless.

Suddenly, the door banged open, revealing three blondes arguing heatedly. England and France were strangling each other while America laughed, running away from the two.

"Yo Germany, yo Italy! What's up? Oh- what were you enjoying?" America said loudly, trying very hard to ignore the two older nations.

"Hi, America! Well, Germany and I were just talking, eating, and-"

Germany cut off quickly, "We were just enjoying the scenery of the city…"

"Ah! New York! Yeah, it's a really nice view if you ask me… I knew that the party would be awesome at my place!" America said enthusiastically, ignoring England behind him, who was rolling his eyes.

France chose the perfect time to interrupt, saying sarcastically, "Ah, Angleterre… You're just jealous of Amerique, aren't you?"

"N-no, I'm not! What makes you think that, you git?!"

"Amerique and I have beautiful places and wonderful economies… We both grow so brilliantly!" France replied smugly, enjoying the look on England's angered face.

"Tsk! And what- I don't?! You hypocrite! You're as tall as I am!" England retorted furiously, trying fervently to ignore America's laughs and France's taunts. He turned instead to Italy and Germany, who were watching with amusement, saying rather apologetically, "I'm very sorry for our disturbing your time here… These two just don't know anything about- about anything!"

America stepped up indignantly and was lightly pushed away by an irritated England. The two argued out of the door while France followed, laughing. The three didn't notice an ignored Canada walking silently after them, clutching his polar bear Kumajirou.

Italy and Germany exchanged blank looks, showing their confusion and amusement at the threesome's little arguments.

"Germany…"

"Ja?"

"Well, I noticed that France, England, and America always fight..." Italy said, "Why do they hate each other so much?"

Germany answered tiredly, leaning on the ledge, "They don't hate each other. It's something called, uhh, a love-hate relationship. They show hate to each other but deep down, they love each other so you don't have to worry about their relationship, Italy."

"Ve~ in case you don't know, Germany..." Italy said quietly. The other man looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. There was a small silence and Italy continued, "I love you..."

Germany froze. He stared at the other man and then smiled softly, pulling him into a small hug. Blushing, he whispered, "Italy... I-I... um, well I... I think I l-love you... too?

Italy beamed and cried cheerfully, "That's good to know!!"

"Y-yeah..."

"Ve~ I'm tired. I'm going back to my hotel," Italy said, jumping off the ledge.

Germany stared at him and said, "Your flight tomorrow is scheduled in the morning, right? I didn't reserve a hotel for tonight so…"

"You want to stay in the same hotel with me?"

"Well, of course, we could just stay in the rooms next to each other and go together to the airport, where we part," Germany said uneasily.

Italy smiled and cried, "Okay!"

The two went downstairs and left the building, wishing all the other nations (most of which were drunk) a Merry Christmas.

They didn't notice that the empty plate of pasta that they shared was left on the ledge of the rooftop balcony.

* * *

**_Author's Notes: _**I was stuck deciding between three pairings to post for this chapter but then you know, GermanyxItaly won. By the way, if you see any mistakes (I didn't really look through it five times like I usually do), then tell me. Come review and request for the next pairings you would want to read, and be free to favorite, subscribe, message, and etcetera. I'm not forcing you to, though, don't worry.

Anyway, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!! Please and thank you!! :D

_-Pasta W 19._


	3. Chapter 3

Hetalia: Axis Powers

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

Chapter Three

**DISCLAIMER: **I wouldn't be writing fan fiction if I owned Hetalia; so there's your simple disclaimer… :D

**OPENING NOTES: **I have nothing much to say except "Here's the third chapter!" I might be saying more stuff in the Author's Notes below. Just enjoy the story, okay? Please and thank you! Now, I present to you- Franada!!

* * *

"Ah- _Matthieu! Bonjour… Ca va?_"

France chuckled as the Canadian looked mildly surprised at being greeted in French. He said, "I- I haven't b-been practicing much on my F-French but-"

Canada shook his head, trying to pull himself together. He cleared his throat and said, "_B_-_bonjour_, Francis. _Bien_, _merci_. _E_-_et_ _vous_?"

"_Tres bien… Tres heureux de vous te voir! Avez- vous fait bon voyage?"_

"Ehh… _Ou-oui_, _j'ai_ _eu_ _un_ _bon_ _voyage_," Canada replied uncertainly.

France's eyes sparked mischievously and continued, "_Vous_ _m'avez_ _apporte_ _un_ _cadeau_ _de_ _Noel_?"

Canada blinked, confused and mused to himself, "I bring what? Christmas- gifts?" He thought hard for a while and his face lit up.

"Oh! _J_-_je_ _suis_ _desole_… _Non_," Canada said, a little perplexed at not being able to get Francis a gift. France smiled and nodded, saying, "That's enough French for a while. You haven't been speaking much in it, _non_?"

"N-not much."

"I haven't seen you for such a long time."

There was a silence and France looked confusedly at Canada, whose face suddenly darkened with an air of depression.

"What's wrong, _Matthieu_?" France asked concernedly.

The younger man looked up and mumbled, "I was at the World Christmas Party just a few days ago… In case you didn't see me…"

"Ah," France said sheepishly, his face turning into a soft, apologetic grin, "Well, let's just say I decided to treat you to dinner here in Paris to make up for not acknowledging you at the party."

"Not acknowledging me? That means- you knew I was there but just didn't say anything?" said Canada, his voice suddenly turning a tone livelier. France nodded, smiling in a comforting way.

He walked over and grabbed Canada's hand, pulling him closer to the shops and restaurants. They started roaming around the bright city of Paris. "_Desole_, _Matthieu_; I was acting very childish at the party, trying to annoy and argue with Angleterre and Amerique," he said quietly.

"Th-that's alright, Francis. I'm used to it, anyway…"

"Used to being ignored? Don't you think that it isn't such a good thing to get used to being ignored?"

Canada laughed bitterly and shrugged, saying, "Well, I don't think I have a choice now, do I? Face it; everyone will forget about me sometime, even Alfred and maybe even you… I might even start forgetting mysel-"

"_Matthieu_, don't say things like that," France cut off sharply. He softened and started looking at a shop window, intrigued by something interesting. Canada sighed and France continued offhandedly, "Don't think like nobody cares about you because many people do. Alfred, Arthur, Gilbert, Ukraine, Cuba, many others… and-" He paused, taking his eyes off the shop window and gazing intently at Canada, "And I care about you, _Matthieu_. I really do."

"Th-thanks, Francis…" Canada muttered shyly, a faint blush creeping through his cheeks.

France flashed a wide, dazzling smile and winked, making the Canadian more uneasy. He laughed at the cute reaction and said, "Hmm… Let's look here first."

They entered the shop and Canada found all the clothes there quite nice and fashionable. France was looking at something in particular and he held it up, making the other man stare in confusion.

"Ehh?"

Canada stared, puzzled, at France, who was holding up a white scarf with an interested look on his face. It was too plain for the outfit he was wearing at that moment and it was too simple for someone like him.

"F-Francis… Isn't that too plain or simple for you?"

France laughed and said, "_Non_, _Matthieu_, this is for you."

"For me?"

"_Oui_."

France went and bought the scarf, which cost a little above average price. Canada waited outside, watching as the other man made his way to the door, holding it. He put it on him, and Canada's plain red sweater and blue jeans instantly looked better with the white scarf. Besides, it was still a little cold and without Kumajirou (who had been left behind by Matthew, knowing how Francis wasn't much fond of him), it made up for the warmth the little fuzzy creature usually brought.

"Let's go and eat, _oui_?" France asked.

"Okay," Canada replied, nodding. As they walked further along the city of Paris, he added quickly, "It doesn't have to be such a fancy place."

France laughed and answered sweetly, "Ah, but _Matthieu_, I don't mind at all. Remember, I'm doing this to make up for not paying much attention to you."

Canada was about to say that it was alright, that he didn't mind and that there was no need to do such thing when he was cut off, "Now just enjoy this beautiful night that I am to offer to you. You won't regret it, I'm sure."

They spent a few minutes walking around, looking at shops and restaurants. Canada enjoyed it all and wondered what exactly they were looking for. This was actually the first time he had come to Paris and sat back, enjoying the place and taking his time. Most of his visits were for world meetings or parties.

"Here, _Matthieu_. I know it isn't much but I already took a few people to the Eiffel Tower. I decided that I should take you someplace else that I secretly enjoy going to more than I do with the Eiffel," France said, stopping after a few minutes of walking. He noticed Canada's pensive face and added, "_Non_, I'm sorry, _Matthieu_, but I am not telling who I took. It would be rather embarrassing on my part."

Canada laughed and shook his head, muttering that he wasn't going to ask anyway. Well, he did have this vague memory of an intoxicated, drunk Arthur telling him something about 'stupid, idiotic, bloody frogs', 'silly, fancy dinners', and 'ridiculously tall overrated places'.

He snapped out of his reverie and decided to pay more attention to France, who was now walking towards the _Arc_ _du_ _Triomphe_.

"I managed to get the keys to this place," France said, grinning at Canada's awestruck face, "The view is less overwhelming here but still quite elegant."

They entered and took a lift then climbing forty-six steps, reaching the top, which was really, as Francis said, quite elegant; Canada couldn't help but gasp softly at the view. There were many lights illuminating the whole city, and the _Champs_ _de_ _Elysees_ spread out before them beautifully.

"Wow… This- this is amazing, Francis!" Canada exclaimed, taking his eyes off of the view and onto France, who was grinning at him from a well-set, candlelit dining table. "You organized a dinner for me here, on top of the _Arc_, just to make up for ignoring me? You didn't have to-"

"Shh, _mon cher_, I already told you that I don't mind doing this for you," France shushed, smiling softly. He looked at the view and added, "_C'est_ _magnifique_…"

Canada smiled and hugged France, which surprised the French man. "Thank you so much, Francis. Nobody really does stuff like this for me…"

"I already told you that it's fine. Now let's sit down and eat," France replied, pulling Canada out of the hug (hesitantly, eyeing the Canadian longingly) and let him sit on a chair.

The table was filled with food like steak, fries, fish soup, and beef stew with vegetables. Canada knew that there were specific French names for these recipes but forgot much about French cuisine when he had grew up with England.

There was a rather small bottle of wine (probably because Francis knew Matthew didn't drink much of it) and two tall glasses. Canada, who was hungry after the satisfying trip around Paris, started eating the food. France tried to eat as much too, but couldn't help but gaze at the innocent Canada before him.

"Did you cook this, Francis?" Canada asked curiously, finishing most of his food.

France's eyes sparked with an air of delight as he slyly answered, "How did you know? It's delicious, isn't it?"

"I- I… Well, y-yeah, it is…" Canada replied, blushing but pleased with himself for making France happy with the praise. He looked around and asked curiously, "Wouldn't anyone see us like this?"

"The _Arc_ already looks beautiful from down there and there's even a tomb of an unknown soldier to keep people busy; who would bother looking up?" France answered. He pondered a little and after chewing for a while, added, "Besides, if someone did see us here, they'd think that it was just their imagination. Nobody gains access to this place this late at night."

Canada nodded and smiled a little at the thought of a person just walking by and admiring the place, then suddenly seeing two happy men dining on top of the _Arc du Triomphe_, which was quite silly.

It was getting late at night and most of the food was already gone. Canada was eating his last spoonfuls and France had finished almost half of the wine (not daring to get too drunk in front of his _Matthieu_).

When they had managed to clear away the food, they had resorted to looking at Paris from their view. Lights were flickering on and off, but the amount of illumination stayed the same for the light in Paris seemed very much alive.

"Would you like some chocolate, _Matthieu?"_

Canada was about to say that he was full enough (not wanting to act as if he was a starving glutton) when France, without waiting for an answer, brought out a small packet of chocolate and opened it.

"I'm fine, Francis, I'm already-"

France put a piece of chocolate into Canada's mouth and said, "Of course you want chocolate… Does it taste good?"

"F-Francis!!" Canada exclaimed with his mouth full. He blushed and chewed, saying afterwards, "Y-you didn't have to shove it up my mouth-"

"But you did like it, _non?_"

Canada nodded as France smiled, giving him another piece and eating the last remains. They both kept quiet while chewing the bittersweet chocolate and stood next to each other, both looking at Paris. One looked with awe and amazement, the other with pride and glory.

"Ah, _mon cheri, _you have a small stain of chocolate around your lips…"

"R-really?" Canada asked, moving his hand over his lips and missing the spot.

Suddenly, in a swift movement, he felt France's lips against his own and almost pulled away, feeling a little uncomfortable. Canada blushed like a tomato but felt somewhat pleased. A second passed by and France pulled back, licking his lips.

"There. It's gone now."

Canada felt his cheeks flush even redder and replied quietly, "Th-thanks…"

France laughed and said, "I'm sorry if I surprised you. You looked ready for it, though."

"N-no, it's fine," the other answered, looking up. Shining, piercing blue eyes met light blue violet ones, and France couldn't help but ask, "Would you like me to clear up the other chocolate stain I see right now?"

Canada smiled, looking down shyly and softly saying, "W-well, a little bit more gently than the first kiss, if you would…"

France couldn't help but grin as he kissed the Canadian again, this time a little bit longer but definitely gentler.

"F-Francis…"

"_Oui, Matthieu?"_

The shy reply was, "Thanks for the wonderful time, the trip, the scarf, the food, and all… But I think I have to go."

France answered, "A bit overwhelmed by my dazzling beauty, aren't you?"

"N-no!" Canada said a little too quickly, and added, "Wait- n-not as if I th-think you're ugly or anything b-but I think you're… ehh…"

"You don't have to answer my question, _mon cher, _I know you love me as much as the whole world does," France said, laughing lightly, "Anyway, you have to go already and besides, I think we've had a little too much of chocolate today."

And Canada couldn't help but wipe his whole face uneasily, making sure that he didn't really have any chocolate on his face at all.

"Merry Christmas, _Matthieu_..."

"H-Happy New Year, Francis…"

Even though a chocolate stain was nowhere to be found, another kiss was shared.

Canada couldn't help but think of telling Kumajirou all about his wonderful night with France as soon as he got home.

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**O-kay... I think Canada was a teensy bit OOC towards the end of the chapter but, hey, he wasn't THAT out of character, was he? And writing France was a change for me, it's been a long time since I've actually done so...

Well, I was supposed to post this on the day after Christmas but I got busy and ended up having to post it today. Ah, well, at least you enjoyed this, right? RIGHT?! No, I'm sorry, I'm not forcing you to but if you did, then review or favorite or subscribe! And tell me what pairings you would like to see next! As long as I know there are still people who even read this stuff, I'll be happy and the A/N's at the bottom of every chapter will get shorter! Anyway, please and thank you!! :)

-_Pasta W 19. _


End file.
